A/N 1: Mentions of 'All In' and 'Lady's Man', Season 8

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CHAPTER THREE: PERIL

New York
11:00AM Monday morning

Bobby arrived at work Monday morning feeling morose. A restless night filled with unwelcome fantasies about Alex making love to someone else had done nothing to improve his already fragile mood.

He couldn't stop thinking about the days before she left. Yes, he had been a bit pissy with her, but could she blame him? This year was different, they were different. At least he'd thought so.

He'd known – of course he'd known, from the beginning.

The first year he hadn't really paid attention. She wasn't going to stay anyway, and her personal life was none of his business. He looked back at that time with both envy and exasperation for his younger self. On the one hand, he'd been so single-minded and self-centred that Eames hadn't really existed to him, as a woman, or even as a human being. On the other hand, their relationship had been so much less complicated.

Who was he kidding? He wouldn't go back to that for anything, despite the confusion, guilt and anguish that had come with growing to love her.

The next few years, realising this was a regular thing, he'd felt uneasiness and a twinge of disapproval; the former of which he tried his best to talk himself out of with reminders that she was a grown woman and a capable officer, and the latter of which he did his best to suppress.

Eames didn't catch on of course. He covered his real feelings with feigned cheer. And it wasn't that difficult, really – however unwholesome he might think its reason, there was no denying the infectiousness of her enthusiasm. And the other aspects of her yearly trips were wonderful. He loved that she had a chance to commune with fellow female officers and detectives. He was happy that she had a break from him, and happier that she seemed glad to return. He spent an unhealthy amount of time during her absences thinking about how lucky he was to work with someone so capable, so agreeable, and so savvy about the thin blue line. He imagined that she awed and impressed her sisters in uniform, and that she made lots of friends.

The last couple of years had been harder, now that he'd come to terms with the depths of his own feelings. He was consumed with questions: why would she choose something so shallow, empty, hollow. An echo of what she could have? The answer, however, was hard to face: because that shallow, hollow echo was better than anything or anyone else she'd ever have.

Better than him.

Of course he hadn't thought in exactly those terms, until this year. After Mulrooney, when they were clicking so well and it seemed like neither of them could deny the undercurrents between them, Bobby was stunned when she reminded him she was going back to Vegas per usual.

What?

Alex soldiered on, oblivious to the import of what she'd said, while Bobby sat in stunned silence, trying not to show his devastation.

As her departure approached, he couldn't disguise his irritation, and yes, he took it out on her. Why? It wasn't her fault she wanted to recapture a dream for a few days a year. She hadn't made any promises to him. The problem was, he felt like they HAD made promises to each other, if only in spirit. 'The tells of the heart,' Josh Snow had called it. When Josh said that, at his stepson's baseball game, Bobby had known instantly what Josh was referring to. He'd seen it, in Bobby. Bobby fancied Josh had also seen it in Alex. At Josh's apartment, he'd turned up the Ten of Clubs. Also known as the Ten of Cups: the card of domestic harmony and conjugal bliss, especially after times of strife and conflict, the happiest card in the Tarot. Josh had asked if Bobby expected to find it there, and he'd thought immediately of Alex. Was that what Josh, the uncanny reader, saw in them? The thought had given him hope. Turned out to be wishful thinking, obviously.

On their last workday before her departure, she'd been withdrawn, distracted. Eager to be gone, he'd told himself. She barely spoke two words to him all day, and she left without saying goodbye.

o.o.o.o.o

"Goren. Captain wants you." Bobby looked up to see Captain Ross staring at him from his doorway with an unusually serious expression. Since Ross hadn't bellowed, Bobby probably wasn't going to be chewed out. Then why…

Eames. "What is it, Captain?" Bobby choked out fearfully as he reached Ross's office. Ross closed the door and drew the blinds.

"Detective Goren." Ross sighed and shook his head, looking pained. "I got a call from LVPD. There's been…" Bobby blanched, felt his throat closing and the edges of his vision growing dark. He clenched his fists and tried to breathe, even as Ross held his hands up in a calming gesture. "No, not – I'm sorry detective, Eames isn't injured." Bobby's fury at Ross for making him think the worst was tempered by the Captain's obvious worry.

"Detective. Bobby." The detective in question started at the use of his first name. "A Vegas ADA called me, as a courtesy. Eames is being held as a material witness, and she's probably going to be charged."

"Charged?" Bobby was aghast, shook his head as if to clear it. "With what?"

"Second degree murder." Ross looked as concerned as Bobby had ever seen him.

"What? Of who?" But Bobby feared he already knew the answer.

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A/N 2: Please review! There are lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of people who've read my fics who have never reviewed! Now, I don't mind, really – I'm just super glad people are reading, and I even remember the time when you couldn't review on this site! But it would be so super nice to hear from you! Even if you just review once! Even if you flame me! You don't even have to have a FF account.